


"Why are you helping me? You hate me."

by orphan_account



Series: Forever and Always [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13218735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Anti returns after their first major fight.





	"Why are you helping me? You hate me."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the utter lack of a chronological order, but I had no plan for this series at all. This part happens between the first part and the second part, and the rest is up to you.

_ “Signe, do you want to go out to the cinema or something?” Anti asks, leaning on the doorway to their bedroom. He looks as if he wants to be hopeful, but won’t let himself.  _

_ She shakes her head, not bothering to look up from her laptop as she’s working. She’d gotten a job designing websites for people; it didn’t pay much, but it was something to keep her occupied when Anti did his best to confine her to the house. “Not tonight, I have to work.”  _

_ Anti doesn’t reply, nor does he move. His face blanks, and he stares at the floor; he doesn’t even blink.  _

_ At this sudden pause, Signe looks up, raising an eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong?” She’s never seen him like this - she can’t even place what emotion he’s feeling, though she guesses it can’t be good.  _

_ “You never want to do anything,” He mutters, clenching his jaw and his fists. _

_ Signe scoffs, and turns back to her work. “Can you blame me?” She pauses, deciding what type of font she wants to use for some subtext near the bottom of the page. “Can you honestly blame me, Anti?”  _

_ “I’m trying to work with you here, Signe!” He raises his voice, not quite to a shout, but enough that she pauses her work, and shuts off her laptop.  _

_ “And I’m not?” She fires back, standing up from her chair. “It takes everything I have to not rip your face off every damn day!”  _

_ “Why? What have I done to you?”  _

_ Signe sharply inhales, staring at the man in front of her to decide whether or not he’s being serious with his question. At the blankness of his expression, she decides that he is serious, and lets her breath out with a frustrated groan.  _

_ “You’ve done everything to me, Anti. You’ve ruined my life, and you don’t fucking care!” She sits back down, finding herself to be drained of all of her previous energy. All she wants to do now is sleep, but she hasn’t had much luck with that lately.  _

_ Anti’s jaw drops, and all he does is stare at her in pure shock. Once he’s regained his composure, he plasters on a smile, and clasps his hands behind his back. “You’re right, Signe. I obviously don’t care about you. I haven’t worked my ass to protect you from all the enemies I’ve made in my own time before I took this body. I haven’t been providing you with heat and food and this fucking house, and I haven’t tried to love you more than anything else in this entire fucking universe!”  _

_ Signe doesn’t get a chance to reply, however, before Anti storms out. She doesn’t follow him, though; she just listens as he stomps through the house, and eventually out the door. She rolls her eyes, and opens her laptop back up. He’ll be back eventually, she might as well work a little bit more, and then attempt once more to fall asleep.  _

Signe shoots up in her bed, letting the sheets fall to the ground as she tries to reclaim her breath. The one time she was able to fall asleep without too much trouble, and she dreams of the argument she had with the thing she hated. An argument that had happened three days ago, and he hadn’t been back since. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared without a trace, nor was this the longest time he’d been away, but it was the first time he left because of a fight. Normally she was happy to be free of his overbearing presence, but now she just felt… empty. 

The house was too quiet without his perpetual static to fill the silence. Her mind was too bare when it wasn’t filled with constant thoughts of her hatred for him. She did feel happier without him here, that was still true, but some deeper part of her, the part she wanted to bury, seemed to actually  _ miss  _ that pathetic creature she lives with, or at least the part of him that was still Sean. 

Signe scoffs to herself. “I miss Anti,” she whispers to no one in particular, not that there’s anyone here to listen. “I fucking miss that jackass.” 

Shaking her head, she stands up, tossing the covers back onto the bed before heading downstairs. She glances around the house as she makes her way into the kitchen, deciding that it was far too quiet for her liking. She takes out her phone, and plays some music; whatever playlist was last used, and pockets the device. Jazz fills the air as she enters the kitchen, and heads for the liquor cabinet. 

Signe grabs a glass, and the whiskey, and pours herself some. Not enough to get anywhere close to drunk, but just enough for her to feel better. She sips the bitter liquor, and smiles at the taste. 

Just as she goes to take another sip, the front door slams open. She jumps, spilling some of the whiskey from the glass, but she doesn’t pay attention to it. She puts her phone on the counter, and grabs a knife from the block next to her. She ignores the blood roaring in her ears, and creeps as quietly as she can towards the door. 

She doesn’t get very far before she spots Anti, struggling to take off his shoes at the door. He’s leaning harshly on his left foot, and holding his right side.

“Anti?” Signe huffs, wondering why he’s taking his shoes off at the door; he never does that, as he complains that the floor is too cold. 

He doesn’t turn around, but mutters something under his breath. Once his shoes are off, he takes a deep breath, and turns around, a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, Signe.” 

His dark clothes are shining in what little light there is, and something is speckled all over his face and arms. Signe flicks on the hallway light, and drops the knife when she realizes he’s covered in blood, from head to his toes. It’s soaked through his clothes, firmly sticking them to his body. It’s all over his shoes, too; that’s why he took them off, even though it’s still staining his socks. It’s even in his hair, matting it to his head, covering the green completely. 

“Who’s… blood is that?” She whispers, not taking her gaze off the scarlett liquid all over his neck. 

He shrugs with a wince, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Can’t remember.” 

She lets the tension ease somewhat from her shoulders, and she steps closer to him, making sure to not step on the knife. “How many people did you kill?” 

“Can’t remember.” 

“How bad are you hurt?” She closes the space between them, and places her own hands over where he’s holding his side. 

He tries to swat her hands away, but hisses through his teeth. “I’ll live, but it hurts like hell.” 

Signe sighs, now feeling guilty for angering him this badly. “I’ll run you a bath, and I’ll help you clean yourself up. Don’t need that getting infected or anything.” 

He nods, knowing that it’s pointless to argue. She turns around, and begins walking towards the stairs. 

“Signe.” 

She stops, but doesn’t face him, instead just waits for him to say whatever he wants to say. 

“Thanks.” 

She turns around, and eyes the way he’s still holding his side. “Do you want pain killers?” 

“No.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just nods once more, and heads up the stairs. He’s always refused any sort of medication for his wounds, but she still bothers to ask every time he’s hurt. She runs a bath, making the water a bit hot as she knows that’s how he likes his showers. She doesn’t bother with any sort of product - bath bombs or bubble soap or anything - because the water’s just going to be red soon enough anyways. Once the tub is filled, she calls for Anti, making sure to get out the black towels, instead of ones that might be stained. 

He enters the bathroom, still wearing his bloodstained clothes. Signe sets a towel on the ground, gesturing for him to step onto it. He does so, and sheds his clothes, making sure to keep them from touching the white tiles. Blood is still coating his entire body, even his back. Some of it’s fresh, but some it’s dried and caked into his skin, as if were there from the first day he left. 

Signe helps ease him into the bath, and he hisses as the water hits his wound. He just sits in tub, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth from the water. 

“Where were you?” She asks, keeping her voice low as she crouches onto her knees beside the tub. 

“The States,” Anti murmurs, swirling the water idly with his hand. “California is beautiful this time of year.” 

Signe doesn’t laugh at his joke, but grabs the cup nearby. She tilts his head back, and begins pouring water over his hair, taking care not to get the water onto his face. Slowly, his hair unsticks from his head as the blood rinses out. It’s still clumped together in some places, but the green is becoming visible through the red. 

She grabs the shampoo, and starts washing his hair. Once the bubbles are thoroughly pink, she rinses once again. One his hair is clean, she takes a cloth, and starts washing his back. 

“How did you get hurt?” She doesn’t want to break the silence, but she needs to know what she’s dealing with. After learning his proclivity to get hurt, she decided to learn some basic medical care, if only to save him the frustration of trying to take care of his wounds himself. 

“Tried to take on four at once, and one of ‘em had a knife. Just a cut, I’ll be fine.” He winces as the water washes over his wound, but refrains from placing his hand over it. It’s still bleeding, but barely. 

Signe doesn’t speak again, not until she’s satisfied with how clean Anti is, and the bathwater is closer to red than pink. She backs away, and grabs a towel. He stands up, and lets the water drip from his pale body a little before letting her wrap the towel around him. 

“I’ll get you some clothes, and take a look at your side,” She tells him. She grabs all black clothes - there’s a wide supply of them - and returns to the bathroom to find Anti holding most of the towel to his side. 

She hands him his underwear and black sweatpants, then has him sit down on the toilet while she fishes the first aid kit out from under the counter. Once she has it, she sits down on the edge of the tub, and starts unzipping it and fishing out what she needs. 

Anti watches her with careful eyes, keeping his emotions under control. He watches as she takes out a needle that was already threaded with black line, and disinfectant and bandages. Unable to deal with the silence, he blurts out, “Why are you helping me? You hate me.” 

Signe sighs, but doesn’t stop what she’s doing. “Yes, I do hate you, but not all of me does.” She doesn’t meet his gaze as she scoots closer to him, getting a better look at his wound. It isn’t deep, but it will need a few stitches. “Forever and always, right?” Her heart still aches at those words, but she ignores it this time. 

Anti sucks in a breath as she wets a clean cloth with disinfectant, and glares at it as it gets closer to his wound. 

“This is gonna sting,” She warns, then presses the cloth to his cut. 

A deep burning pain spreads throughout his body, but he doesn’t shout or jerk away, but fights to stay in control of his body. He groans, a low sound, and can’t help the fact that he’s probably glitching out a few electronics around the house, something that tends to happen whenever he’s under duress. 

Wiping away a bit of blood, Signe gets started on the stitches. Anti remains calm through the pain, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breath deeply. 

“You… don’t, ah, have to do this,” He grits out after a few minutes, hating the feeling of the needle piercing his skin. 

Signe huffs, and quickly finishes her work. “You would just let the damn thing get infected.” 

He can’t argue with her, because he knows she’s right. She puts the needle down, wipes off her bloody hands, then applies the fresh bandages over his wound. Once she’s finished, she hands him a black shirt, and motions for him to get out of the bathroom. 

Anti listens, and goes downstairs to start cleaning up any blood he might’ve gotten anywhere. He throws his ruined clothes into the trash bin out back, not caring to try and wash the blood out of them. He feels a sudden wave of guilt for lying to Signe, but ignores it by getting out the mop and bucket. 

As he’s filling the bucket with hot water, he goes through the lies he told. He remembers how many people he killed while in the States - he even remembers their exact moments of death - but he won’t tell her that. He remembered exactly how he got his wound - he was kidnapped, and tortured, but made his escape by killing everyone there - but he won’t tell her that. He wasn’t planning on getting help for his wound, because he deserves for it to fester and kill him - but he won’t tell her that. 

Once the bucket’s filled with steaming water, he adds the washing liquid, and then starts mopping the entrance to their house. With each motion, with each little bit of blood being cleaned, there goes a lie he won’t tell Signe. All getting diluted into the dirty mop water slowly being turned pink. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? 

He finishes mopping, and pours the water out in the backyard, then rinses the bucket and mop using the hose outside. He heads back inside, and flops himself onto the couch. His energy, what little he had left, flees, leaving him tired in every sense of the word. His body hurts, and his mind can’t seem to focus on simple things. He suddenly realizes that the last time he bothered sleeping was before he left in the first place. He can hear Signe walking around upstairs, and doesn’t wish to disturb her, so he lies down on the couch. 

As soon as his head hits the pillow, he falls into a dreamless sleep. Signe walks downstairs, holding the black towels that were now bloody, and stops when she sees him on the couch, already asleep. She doesn’t pause for more than a moment, remembering that she needs to get the towels into the wash. 

Once that’s done, Signe goes back into the living room. Seeing Anti soundly asleep, probably for the first time since he’s left, helps her realize just how exhausted she is. She hasn’t slept well for three days, and her body is worn out and her mind is shutting down. She barely remembers covering Anti with a blanket before heading upstairs into their bed. For the first time in three days, she falls asleep within minutes, and doesn’t have a single nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a kudos or a comment!


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